


Tracks in the Snow (Led Me to You)

by dansunedisco



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ableist Language, Alive Laura Hale, Allison and Kira are BFFs, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Christmas, Derek and Stiles Being Idiots, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gift Giving, Holidays, Implied Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Kira POV, M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Pining, Snow, Stress Baking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:12:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2805659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dansunedisco/pseuds/dansunedisco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Kira blinked rapidly, more than a little thrown by the instant attraction. She had dated a few girls since discovering her bisexuality in high school, but none of them had sparked her interest so quickly. That meant one thing, and that was there was a 99.9% chance she was going to shove her foot firmly in her mouth before the night was through.</i>
</p><p>A month before Christmas, Malia walks into Kira's coffee shop. The rest, as they say, is history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tracks in the Snow (Led Me to You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Acaranna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acaranna/gifts).



> Written for the [Teen Wolf Femslash Exchange.](http://teenwolffemslashexchange.tumblr.com)
> 
> A huge thank you to [Eszter](http://walshings.tumblr.com) and [Christa](http://halemas.tumblr.com) for beta reading and generally making sure I finished this without tearing out all my hair. <3
> 
>  
> 
> -
> 
>  **Re: ableist language tag.** There are a few mentions of "crazy" and "nuts" in the POV.

“The snow’s really coming down,” said Scott. “You think they’ll let us go early?” 

Stiles snorted. “Laura, yes. Derek? No.”

Kira smiled and continued wiping down the counter, dutifully ignoring Stiles’ colorful rant about their bosses. Laura and Derek could be abrasive—each in their own special way—but they weren’t the type to strand their employees. Besides, the Curly Wolf was empty, save for the three of them, and had been for quite some time. Most of the stores in their tiny strip mall had shuttered down early when the weather forecast had called for snow. Not a soul was outside.

Which made it absolutely terrifying when the bell over the door tinkled and someone popped inside not ten minutes later. A blast of cold wind jerked the door open, slamming it against the catch. Kira gasped. Stiles yelped. Scott stepped around the counter, hands up in a placating gesture, like he thought the stranger was two seconds away from hopping over the counter and stealing their coffee beans.

“We’re about to close. Are you okay?” Scott asked.

“Your sign says you’re open,” they replied, jerking a mitten-clad hand towards the door. Then, they plucked their purple beanie off and unwrapped the thick scarf hiding the bottom half of their face to reveal _the_ most gorgeous woman Kira had ever seen.

Kira blinked rapidly, more than a little thrown by the instant attraction. She had dated a few girls since discovering her bisexuality in high school, but none of them had sparked her interest so quickly. That meant one thing, and that was there was a 99.9% chance she was going to shove her foot firmly in her mouth before the night was through.

“Do you want coffee?” she blurted out. And there it was. The question had come tumbling out before Kira could rein it in, and she quietly endured the stares she received from not only Stiles and Scott, but the beautiful stranger as well.

Stiles cleared his throat. “What Kira means is, we’d love to serve you if, you know, we weren’t about to shut down for the snowmageddon.” 

“And what Stiles means,” Scott cut in, “is you’re more than welcome to hang out until we have to lock up.” Then, to Stiles and Kira, he said, “I’m gonna call Laura. Stiles, be nice.”

Stiles pulled a face. “When am I not nice?”

Kira elbowed him none too gently and tilted her head towards the customer, trying to convey _you literally just tried to kick someone out of the shop_.

Stiles half-shrugged back, which, from past experience, Kira knew meant _my bad_. He then turned to the customer and asked with great reluctance, “So… _can_ we get you anything? Since you’re already—ow.”

Kira pulled her foot back from atop Stiles’, customer-friendly smile firmly in place. “Don’t mind him,” she said.

“You guys are weird as hell,” the woman said. Then, after a beat, she asked, “How much does a small coffee cost?”

“It’s on the house,” Kira said quickly, before Stiles could name a ridiculous price, as he was wont to do. The woman’s eyes snapped to hers, intense and skeptical in equal measure. Kira flushed, but didn’t back down on her offer. It was the _right_ thing to do after suffering Stiles’s special brand of customer service, and absolutely had no bearing on the fact that she was currently nursing an unexpected crush.

“Free is good,” the woman said, after a moment.

“Well, alright then. I’ll be in the back,” Stiles said. Then, as he passed Kira, he cut her some serious judgment eyes and whispered, “I’m on to you, Yukimura.”

Kira waved him off. She turned her attention back to the customer. “Do you have a preference?” 

The woman dropped her laptop bag to the floor, looking a bit like she regrettedchoosing the Curly Wolf for her beverage needs. “Whatever works,” she said, shrugging out of her puffy jacket. It looked like another five layers of mismatched sweaters and flannel were hiding underneath that, too. It was cold out, no doubt about it, but she looked dressed for the arctic, not an early snowstorm in the Pacific Northwest.

“Are you new to the area?” Kira couldn’t help but ask as she started a fresh pot of her favorite blend.

The woman frowned. “Is it that obvious?” A sizable puddle was gathering on the floor where she stood, snow melting off her fuzzy boots.

Kira didn’t even care that she’d have to mop up again. “Just—a little bit,” she replied sheepishly, waving towards the woman’s outfit. “No offense. Most locals get by with a thick sweater and a jacket. Maybe a beanie if the wind chill is _really_ bad.”

The woman laughed, a short bark halfway between amused and surprised. “I’m always cold. I moved here from Arizona a few months ago and—I just haven’t felt warm since.”

Kira nodded, fully understanding her dilemma. While she had grown up experiencing New York winters, she had spent enough time in California to feel the painful transition when she had moved up to Washington. “Gotcha. I wish I could tell you it gets better.”

“Thanks for the honesty,” she replied. “So. You’re Kira.”

“Yup, that’s me.” She waved, the reflex ingrained and so, so embarrassing. _Why_ did she wave? “I’m Kira. Like Stiles said. Who’s in the back now. Scott’s the one who was just here, too. He’s kind of our night manager? Not usually, though; the other guy was sick.” She blushed; god, the word vomit just wouldn’t stop coming. _Stop talking, Kira. Right now._ “So. Coffee.”

“I’m Malia,” the woman—Malia—said with an indulgent smile. She stepped towards the counter and sniffed, her cute button nose wrinkling up. “And I think the coffee’s done.” 

It was, and Kira almost burned her fingerprints off in her haste to pour a cup.

 

* * *

 

“Derek said we can leave,” Scott said, when he finally emerged from the back room.

Kira perked up at the good news. It felt like another foot of snow had fallen in the fifteen minutes Scott and Stiles had been absent and she was ready to go home before it turned into a full on blizzard. “What happened to calling Laura?”

Stiles popped his head out from the backroom, cellphone pressed to his ear. “Laura’s trapped in Chicago. I’m on the phone with—hold on… Derek, I swear to God, I know you’re my boss but you can’t talk to me like—whatever.” He snorted, and then disappeared into the back once more.

Scott held his hands up. “I don’t want to know what that’s about.”

Honestly, neither did Kira.

 

* * *

 

Kira waited as long as she could before asking Malia to leave. It felt rude, mostly, but it was store policy to ask customers to leave before lock up as they couldn’t have anyone else inside while they had the cash register open. But Malia didn’t seem bothered at all. She just packed up her belongings, put her million layers back on, and stepped out into the evening air without a backward glance or a wave goodbye. 

Kira watched her disappear into the snowy night with a wistful sigh, more than a little part of her hoping Malia would come back on her own accord. The logical side of her happily chimed in that they hadn’t really talked at all, that it would be ridiculous to expect someone to come back. But a girl could hope.

 

* * *

 

Kira hoofed it to her trusty, though untested-in-snow Civic, Scott and Stiles not far behind. They had closed up shop in record time, the three of them working in tandem.

Flurries were coming down steadily; the cold nipped at her nose. She couldn’t wait to get home and crawl under a mountain of blankets, maybe eat the tin of Christmas cookies Allison had given her as an early present.

“Drive safe!” Stiles called out when he made it to his jeep, throwing himself inside sideways.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride home?” Scott asked. 

Kira shook her head. “No, but thanks.” Her dad had taught her how to drive in snow and ice the year she’d earned her license. It had been years ago, but Kira was confident she wouldn’t crash into a light pole. She just—had to take it slow. Really slow. “Call me when you guys make it home, okay?” 

“You, too,” Scott said. 

Kira waited in her car until the vents were steadily puffing out hot air. Stiles hadn’t waited at all. She pulled into the tire tracks his jeep had left behind, thankful in the knowledge that she had chains in her trunk if she needed them. The matter of putting them on was another issue entirely, but she’d get to that when the time came. Which was hopefully never.

The streets were quiet, deserted. The streetlights outside glowed faintly, the covers dusted in snow and ice. Everything looked dull and orange. She turned her music up, the silence of the evening a little too eerie all by her lonesome. The drive from her apartment to the coffee shop was five minutes under normal circumstances, though she usually took public transit or walked. Now, at the rate she was going, it would take her at least half an hour.

Worse yet, the light ahead was red. Though she was half-tempted to glide right through and blame it on the snow if she got caught, she lifted her foot off the pedal anyway. It was while she was coming to a stop at the empty intersection that something in the distance caught her eye. She squinted.

It didn’t seem real, but a dark figure was plodding along the snow-covered sidewalk.

“No way!” she gasped. In that moment, she was so grateful for her car; her car with heat and reliable tires and the ability to protect her from the inclement weather outside. Maybe it was the spirit of the holidays that possessed her, or maybe she’d finally lost her marbles, but one moment she was idling at the red light, and the next she was drifting up to the curb.

She rolled her window down and leaned over into the passengers seat, realizing with a start that the dark figure was Malia, five thousand layers and all.

Her stomach lurched. “Malia?” she called out, trying to smile brightly when Malia turned to look at her with a bewildered expression. “Hey, it’s Kira from the coffee shop.”

Malia half-turned to look at her, expression telling Kira exactly how crazy Malia thought she was. For a moment, Kira thought she was going to continue on or break into a run, but she instead made a beeline towards the car.

She bent down and leaned her forearm against the open window. “Kira from the coffee shop,” she said, breath puffing out white. “What’s up?”

“Look,” Kira said, idea already formed and driving the bus. “I know this sounds absolutely crazy, but I can’t, in good conscience, let you walk through the snow without at least offering. So… can I please give you a ride home?” 

“That does sound pretty nuts,” Malia agreed, looking up and down the deserted street. “You promise you’re not a serial killer?” 

Kira huffed out a laugh, though she wasn’t sure if Malia was kidding for how deadpan her words were. “As long as you promise you’re not an axe-murderer.”

Malia laughed, another sharp sound that had Kira’s stomach fluttering in the best way. “I promise.” 

They drove in silence, after Malia gave directions to an apartment complex down the street from Kira’s own. It wasn’t uncomfortable between them, but it wasn’t pleasant, either. Malia made no attempt at starting conversation, though Kira didn’t blame her one bit. If their situations had been reversed, she wasn’t sure she would want to talk, either.

Kira wasn’t a nosy person, in general, but she _was_ curious. What had Malia been doing out in the snow in the first place? Kira flexed her hands on the steering wheel, casting a glance over to her passenger. The answer didn’t really matter, in the end.

“Thanks for the ride,” Malia said, when they pulled up to the front of her apartment. “I owe you.”

Kira waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. Happy holidays,” she said, then bit her lip. Would she be a terrible person for angling for Malia’s phone number? Probably. But she could always try to see her again. “Hey—actually, you should come back. For coffee. When the weather’s better. We get pretty festive, if you like that kind of stuff.” 

Malia got out and ducked her head down. She had a broad smile on her face, her cheeks flushed pink. “I could learn to,” she said. “I’ll see you around, Kira from the coffee shop.”

Kira took a deep breath and sighed, watching Malia until she was safely through the front door of her apartment building. Oh, she had it _bad._

 

* * *

 

She had a voicemail from Scott on her phone when she finally made it home, a good fifteen minutes after dropping Malia off. She didn’t listen to it; instead, she hit the call back button.

Allison answered on the third ring. 

“Movie night?” Kira asked, toeing off her shoes. She could hear _Die Hard_ playing loudly in the background, Scott and Stiles quoting along.

“Yeah, sorry,” Allison said. The background noise died down like she’d escaped to the kitchen. “You want me to get Scott McClane?” 

“Actually, you’re ten times more equipped to hear this,” Kira said, and then recounted her version of events at the Curly Wolf and the subsequent drive home. She sighed, flopping down onto the couch, hardly caring that she was still wearing her snow-dusted coat. “I think I’m in love.” 

Allison laughed. “Did you get her number at least?”

“No,” she said, deflating a little. “I didn’t want to be weird. Well, weirder. I was already that creeper who pulled up on her in a car. And gave her free coffee and googly heart eyes.”

“Hm. All you have left to do is breathe _really_ heavily over her shoulder and you’ll have hit all the boxes.”

“You think?” Kira groaned. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you crushing before,” Allison said. It was true. The two of them had become fast friends when Scott had introduced them months ago, but Kira had been painfully single the entire time. 

“I’m just having a moment, don’t mind me.” Kira unzipped her coat. “I’ll probably never see her again, honestly.” 

Allison made a sympathetic noise on the other end. “Have faith. ‘Tis the season!”

They chatted for a while longer, Allison interjecting with ideas here and there, but the solution to Kira’s problems weren’t forthcoming.

After they hung up, Kira changed into her fluffiest pajamas, cracked open Allison’s cookies, and turned on Lifetime. A ridiculous romcom was playing, something about a woman handcuffing and literally kidnapping a man to have someone to bring home for the holidays. Kira might have felt a little pathetic, but at least she hadn’t such reached low, desperate levels. Yet.

Chances were, she would never see Malia ever again. But if she fantasized a little and hoped the Christmas spirit brought her good things this year, well, no one had to know.

 

* * *

 

A week passed. The snow from last week’s storm was all but gone, gray slush and half-melted snowmen its last remaining stronghold. Malia hadn’t come back, though that didn’t stop Kira’s heart from leaping into her throat every time the door chimed.

Then, one nondescript Tuesday evening, Malia did.

Kira was working the cash register. She almost swallowed her tongue when she saw Malia at the entryway, scanning the shop like she was on the prowl, looking even more gorgeous than she had the week before. When she saw Kira, she smiled, bright and beautiful, and Kira dramatically altered Mr. Pennyworth’s usual order, sharpie gliding across the cardboard cup, marking enough shots and syrups to give a healthy human a heart attack.

Luckily, Scott caught the mistake in time, but it came at Kira’s expense. He raised his eyebrows. “Just go talk to her,” he urged, giving her his best, most encouraging grin. “She gave you _the smile_ when she came in.”

Kira tracked Malia’s progress around the shop, where she settled at a corner table and pulled out a laptop. Her heart was beating fast, way too fast. She wasn’t prepared. “I can’t,” she said. “Bad things happen when I talk.”

“Like what?” 

“Terrible things,” she said, a little hysterically, if the way Mr. Pennyworth was looking at her was any indication. “I have a list. It’s long.”

Stiles sighed messily from his station. “This is for your lady love, because I literally can’t listen to this anymore,” he groused, sliding a mug along the counter. It had a little fox drawn in the foam with a heart around it. “Don’t ever say Stiles didn’t help a homie out.”

Scott beamed at them both. “That’s so sweet, dude.” 

Kira had to admit that it _was_ pretty thoughtful, even if Stiles just wanted her to buck up and preferably never talk about her romantic plight at work ever again. “Thanks, Stiles,” she said warmly. 

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “Seriously. Don’t.”

 

* * *

 

It only took Kira two minutes to work up the nerve to bring Malia the coffee. “Here, on the house,” she said. When Malia looked up with a confused expression, she hastily explained, “Well, I told you we get festive and you didn’t order, and Stiles didn’t really—“

Malia touched Kira’s wrist. “Kira,” she said, “thank you. It’s actually… really nice of you. I’ve kind of been having a crap day.” She waved at her laptop. “I’ve been trying to write my essay and this overrated piece of technology isn’t cooperating.”

“I have mine here,” Kira offered, words coming faster than her brain could process them. “You can borrow it, if you want.” 

Malia gaped at her. “Are you sure?”

Kira nodded, slightly terrified at the generous spirit Malia inspired in her. _What_ was she doing? She barely knew the woman. Her laptop was expensive, a gift from her parents when she had graduated. It was basically her entire life. If something happened to it… “Yes,” she said firmly, mentally brushing her doubts away. “My shift ends in three hours, so—if you want to leave, just give it back to me before then.”

Malia smiled. “Cool. I owe you, again. Seems like a trend with us, huh?”

It was such a simple thing, but hearing Malia say _us_ warmed Kira head to toe.

 

* * *

 

After laptop sharing, which was probably the most intimate thing two people could do in the 21st century, Kira finally bucked up to ask Malia to hang out. It went about as smooth as she imagined it would, stumbling through an invite to a group outing at the ice rink before Malia saved her by handing Kira her old flip phone. 

“Give me your number,” she prompted.

Kira punched her number in as requested, marveling at the old Nokia. “I didn’t know they made these anymore,” she said. “Do you text?”

“What’s that?” 

Kira’s mouth dropped open, but Malia burst into laughter and swatted her arm.

“I’m kidding,” she said. “I like having a keypad.”

“Oh,” laughed Kira, flushing lightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow night then?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it.” 

Tomorrow night felt like it would never come. 

Kira tried studying, but she was distracted, too busy thinking about her outfit, her hair, if Malia would like her friends, if her friends would like Malia. If they were even on a _date_ or if they were just kicking it as friends. She should have made her intentions clear from the beginning, but what could she say now?

“Oh hey, I wanna jump your bones?” Allison offered when Kira posed the question to her as she whirled through the door with a tier of festive cupcakes.

“Terrible idea, and—“ Kira eyeballed her friend, “—this is the third time this week you’re bringing me baked goods. What’s going on?”

“My mom’s coming to visit,” Allison replied, cringing like the thought was not in line with happy holiday cheer. She placed the tier on the kitchen counter, waving apologetically, like bringing Kira cupcakes was a terrible thing she needed to apologize for. “I bake when I stress. Sorry.” 

Kira snatched a cupcake up. “Never apologize for being you,” she said, and took a bite right as the doorbell rang. 

She was expecting Stiles or Scott when she opened the door, but it was Malia.

“Hi,” Malia greeted. “That cupcake looks tasty. You got a little frosting on your—“ she motioned to her face.

 _Of course this would happen to me_ , Kira thought, and stepped aside to let Malia in.

 

* * *

 

“So what’s their story?” Malia asked.

Kira looked up from where she was tightening her ice skates. Scott was hanging onto Allison’s arm as she carefully pulled him behind her. Laura, who had finally escaped Chicago’s icy clutch, was drifting along with Erica and Boyd—employees Kira had met only a few times. But Kira figured Malia was asking about Derek and Stiles.

“They’re always like that,” she said with a helpless shrug.

“Like they either want to kiss or kill each other?”

Kira beamed. “You got it.”

Malia laughed and pulled Kira up. “Fair warning… I’ve never ice skated before, but I _was_ a roller rink badass.”

Kira could believe it. “I suck, so go easy on me.” 

She smirked. “Now why would I do that?” 

Malia was true to her word. She was fearless on the ice. Even when she inevitably fell on her butt, she just got back up and kept going, zipping around the rink like lightning. Kira tried to keep up, but she was no match, wobbling along the outer edge like a newborn kitten.

“You want to try something?” Malia asked, when she circled back around.

Kira nodded, arms outstretched in front of her for balance. She nearly lost her footing—again—when she felt Malia’s hands circle around her waist.

“I’m gonna push now,” she said, right into the shell of Kira’s ear. “Just lean back on me a little. Scream if I go too fast.” 

Kira squeaked and held on tight.

 

* * *

 

If she hadn’t been completely gone on the girl before, their time together at the ice rink only cemented Kira’s crush in stone. 

Being with Malia was just… easy. Easier than any relationship, friendship or otherwise, she had ever been in. Malia didn’t judge, and never made it seem like Kira’s awkward ramblings were anything but welcome; she laughed easily, argued with Derek and Stiles effortlessly, and wormed her way into Kira’s heart so fast it made her head spin. They had only known each other for three short weeks, but it felt like much longer. 

They hung out nearly every day now, exchanging texts while they were apart. Stiles said it was Christmas codependence. Scott insisted it meant True Love. Allison tried to be practical.

“You need to tell her how you feel, Kira,” she said, over another batch of snowflake-shaped sugar cookies. Her mother was flying in later that evening, and she’d baked three trays already.

Kira munched on another cookie. It was her fourth. “I _can_ _’_ _t_ ,” she said. “The time for an emotional confession was before we agreed to exchange Christmas presents. I can’t do it. She’s my friend and I don’t want to…”

“To ruin things? Scare her away?” Allison prompted gently. “She might feel the same way. You’re only torturing yourself by keeping quiet.”

Kira sighed and swiped another cookie onto her napkin. “Fine,” she said. “We’re meeting tonight to swap gifts before she flies back to Arizona. I’ll bite the bullet then.” 

“That’s the spirit!” 

Despite promising Allison she would confess, it was the last thing Kira wanted to do. She really liked Malia, her company, her everything, and rejection always sucked. The worst thing, though? She was sure—even if Malia didn’t feel the same way—Malia would still want to stay friends.

She spent the rest of her visit at Allison’s frosting cookies, restless and wracked with nerves. She drove to Malia’s in silence, palms sweaty against the steering wheel. Normally, she was raring to go hang out with her, but this time she was reluctant to leave Allison’s.

“Are you okay?” Malia asked, as soon as she opened her apartment door. 

Kira nodded and slipped inside, carrying both a tin of cookies from Allison and her carefully wrapped gift. “Allison made about three hundred cookies.”

Malia made grabby hands at the tin and wasted no time in cracking it open. “Her mom needs to visit more often.”

Kira gave her a thin smile where she normally would have laughed. _Just do it, Kira_ , she thought. _Just say it._ She sat down on the edge of the couch, her usual spot, trying to work up the nerve to rip the band-aid off while Malia looked at her with concern. 

“Kira… you sure you’re okay?” she asked, setting the tin on the coffee table.

Kira took a deep breath. _Now or never_. “Malia, I really like you.” Her stomach tightened up, and she couldn’t look anywhere but her knees, but it was out there now.“Like— _more than friends_ like you. I just wanted to get that off my chest because it’s been on my mind for weeks now, and wow—maybe I shouldn’t be offloading this right before you go home? Sorry, I just realized this might be a really bad—”

She was cut off by Malia’s laugh. Kira’s gaze snapped up, mortified. 

“Oh, no,” Malia urged, her half-smile sliding right off. She rushed forward and dropped to her knees right there on the crappy shag carpet, hastily grabbing Kira’s hands. “I actually wanted to tell you the same thing, before I left.”

Kira’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“I feel the same way,” she said, mouth quirking up into a tiny smile. “I like you, too.” 

Kira gaped some more. “Since when?” she stuttered out, brain and heart having a really hard time coming to terms with things actually going her way.

“Since the time you picked a random stranger off the side of the road in the middle of a snowstorm,” she said. “Since you lent me your laptop. Since you can’t ice skate to save your life. Since you taught me about emojis.”

Kira turned her hands over, until she and Malia were palm to palm. “Can I give you your present now?” she asked. “I just… need a minute to wrap my head around this.”

Malia nodded. “Let me get yours.”

When she came back, Kira handed her the medium-sized box she’d wrapped earlier that day. It had taken her a long time to pick out the perfect gift, but she really thought this was something Malia would like. She waited anxiously as Malia tore the wrapping paper clean off.

“A scarf,” Malia said, rubbing the fabric against her cheek. “It’s perfect.”

“You only have the one,” she said shyly. “And you can’t have enough around here.”

“I love it,” she said. “Here’s yours.” 

Malia handed her a little gift bag. Inside was a tiny knitted fox; it was curled up on itself like it was sleeping, tiny black nose hidden behind an overlarge tail. She had only mentioned her obsession with foxes as a kid once before, and she felt her heart crack at the sentiment, at Malia remembering such an offhand remark.

“My little sister knits these things,” Malia explained. “She’s pretty good, huh?”

Kira couldn’t do much else but pull her into a hug.

 

* * *

 

Malia flew home to Arizona the next day, and Kira to Beacon Hills a day after that. They promised to revisit their confessions after Christmas, when they were both back in Washington, but Malia was never far away from Kira’s thoughts. They texted regularly and shot pictures of their respective decorations back and forth. Christmas Eve, they talked late into the night. Kira felt like she was back in high school, happy and carefree and infatuated.

 

* * *

 

It felt like forever had passed before they saw each other next, the way Kira’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Malia’s purple beanie bobbing in the crowd at baggage claim, the way her breath was stolen when Malia enveloped her into an amazing reunion hug.

“I know we promised we’d talk,” Malia said, pulling back but keeping her hands firmly on Kira’s waist. “But can I _please_ kiss you first?”

Kira nodded enthusiastically. She didn’t care that they were at the airport, and that maybe their first kiss should be somewhere more romantic, but _Sleepless in Seattle_ must have had it _right_ because Malia’s kiss was everything Kira had imagined and more. It warmed her head to toe, made her heart race, her palms sweat, her lips tingle like she was caught on a live wire. When they finally broke apart, Kira was smiling ear to ear.

“You ready to go?” Malia asked, looking more than a little dopey herself. 

“So ready.”

When she’d hoped Christmas would deliver her something amazing this year? Well, this was ten times better.


End file.
